


Strawberry Kitten

by Neuron



Series: Uphill Both Ways [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Arguing, Enemies to Friends, Fighting, Friendship, Gen, Nicknames, Seriously Grimmjow is a pain in the ass, Some Humor, Swearing, grimmjow being a shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuron/pseuds/Neuron
Summary: Grimmjow and Ichigo know how to rub each other the wrong way but it wouldn't be so bad if they knew how to behave like mature adults who talk things out.Except they don't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as my first fic, Pacific, only this happens several months earlier.  
> I'm going to turn this into a series of one-shots and short stories.

“Fucking _strawberry._ ”

It had all started one afternoon when Yuzu had been prepping strawberries for dessert later that evening. Grimmjow had followed Ichigo into the kitchen, arguing about something meaningless as usual, when he noticed her chopping off the cap of each strawberry and placing them equally into five bowls. Forgetting their argument for a moment, he approached the little blonde girl with a crease between his eyes.

“What’re these?” he said, curious but still pissed off from whatever disagreement he’d had with Ichigo.

“Strawberries,” Yuzu chirped as she continued to cut off the stems. “They’re for dessert,” she added with a smile, glancing up to find Grimmjow simply staring at her, no closer to understanding. “You’ve never had strawberries before?”

Being a hollow from a dark and desolate desert world he could safely say no, he had never had strawberries before. He didn’t even know what they were until this moment.

Seeing the shake of his head, Yuzu immediately plucked one from the bowl, rinsed it quickly under a spray of cold water from the tap and handed it to Grimmjow, “try one, they’re delicious!”

Uncertainly, Grimmjow took it from her, scrutinizing it with a scowl but, after seeing Yuzu’s encouraging smile, popped the whole thing in his mouth and chewed. His scowl broke suddenly as the sweet, juicy flavour touched his palette.

“You like it?” Yuzu asked, and was pleased when Grimmjow nodded in confirmation. “You can have a couple more, but the rest are for after dinner.”

Stood by the refrigerator, Ichigo watched the exchange while swigging from a carton of juice. Outwardly he seemed indifferent, bored even. But on the inside, he felt apprehension swirling in his stomach.

_Don’t do it, Yuzu._

He continued to eye them warily as Grimmjow ate two more strawberries and Yuzu explained how they tasted even nicer with cream and a sprinkle of sugar.

 _For the love of God, please don’t do it_.

“Oh yeah, did you know Ichigo means strawberry?” Yuzu cheerfully states the one thing Ichigo wishes she hadn’t and he wants to scream.

He’ll always remember the slow and lazy way Grimmjow’s eyes roll over to him, his head tilted back slightly and the most infuriating smirk gleefully stretching over his lips. The cat has found his cream.

“Oh _really?”_ he drawls.

_Shit._

* * *

 

Ichigo was positive he had heard every ‘strawberry’ joke that existed. Every person that made a pun out of his name thought they were the first to do so. It wasn’t even insulting anymore, just boring and tiring. Still, a swift beat down was all it usually took to throw some smart-ass punks of his back and make them think twice before mocking his name again.

This approach did not work with Grimmjow.

He’d tried, at first, to explain that his name was spelt using the kanji characters meaning ‘ _one_ ’ and _‘to protect’_ \- giving him the rather cool – if he were to say so himself – title of _‘one protector.’_

Grimmjow was having none of it though. He’d listened impassively before raising a thin blue eyebrow skeptically and scoffed, “sure thing, Strawberry.”

And the beat down tactic was a disaster.

He didn’t know how he could have possibly forgotten that Grimmjow _liked_ fighting.

After one too many _‘strawberry_ ’ comments followed by stressed warnings, Ichigo finally snapped and sucker punched Grimmjow straight in the gut. The seconds that followed had been incredibly satisfying. Grimmjow staggered and actually dropped to one knee, the air rushing out of him with a choked sound. He gasped haphazardly, coughing as his stomach muscles shuddered uncontrollably. Ichigo backed off and folded his arms unsympathetically, giving him a nonchalant _well-I-warned-you_ look. The superior feeling didn’t last as Grimmjow raised his head, managing to look both furious and excitedly crazed at the same time.

They were pried apart by Isshin after Yuzu’s screaming. Grimmjow slept downstairs with cotton buds up each nostril and Ichigo went to bed with a black eye and split lip.

* * *

 

Grimmjow still called Ichigo _Kurosaki_ most of the time. But when he wanted to tease, antagonize or bait him; he switched to ‘ _strawberry,_ ’ and there didn’t seem to be much he could do about it.

“How the fuck d’ya end up being called Strawberry anyway? Yer hardly fucking sweet.”

“Ha-de-ha. I’ve never heard that one before,” Ichigo retorted sarcastically, his eye twitching in annoyance.

“I bet you’re one of the rotten ones,” Grimmjow remarked as if he’d said nothing. “All mouldy on the outside –“

“Have you ever taken a good look at yourself, Grimmjow?” Ichigo snapped, glaring daggers at him over his textbook.

Grimmjow just continued to lounge on his futon, smirking up at the ceiling with mischievous eyes. “And full of maggots on the inside,” he said.

* * *

 

In the grocery store one day with the twins, Grimmjow picked up the ugliest, misshapen strawberry from the display and held it up before yelling down the aisle, “Oi look Kurosaki, it’s you!”

Heads turned in their direction and Ichigo flushed in both embarrassment and anger. Karin snorted and kept walking while Yuzu giggled nervously and gave her brother an apologetic look. For her sake, Ichigo swallowed his ire and forced a crooked smile.

Another argument escalated into a fistfight one morning. Karin sat at the table with a scowl, pressing the volume up on the TV remote as Ichigo and Grimmjow snarled at each other behind her. It was over something idiotic, it always was. How they had the energy to be yelling that early was a mystery.

* * *

 

“Give me the damn sugar!”

“I’m fucking using it!” Grimmjow roared back, holding the tin out of reach.

“Well _hurry up_ then!”

Grimmjow slammed the tin down on the worktop and very very _very_ slowly scooped a teaspoon out, measuring it and shaking off a little excess before dropping it into his coffee. He repeated the action a second time, being incredibly slow about it again. When he went to do it a third time, Ichigo lost his temper.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” Ichigo fumed, getting right up in Grimmjow’s space. “You only take one sugar in your coffee! You’re going to make me _late_.”

“Shut up, you’ve got plenty of time.”

“Stop being such an argumentative prick and give me the fucking sugar. _Now!_ ”

Karin was lucky enough to turn around just in time to see Grimmjow raise the open sugar tin and dump the entire contents over Ichigo’s head. Her mouth dropped open just a fraction as Ichigo froze for a split-second, sugar cascading down his neck, falling over his shoulders and down his shirt.

“Sugar goes well on strawberries,” Grimmjow sneered and Karin slides off her chair and out the room to find her dad.

“ _You -!”_

 _Children_ , she thought as the first crash shook the house, _fully grown man-babies._

* * *

 

It’s completely by accident when Ichigo discovers how to exact revenge on Grimmjow specifically for calling him Strawberry.

They’re arguing, as if that comes as a shock to anyone anymore, and Grimmjow has referred to him as the _S-word_ enough times that Ichigo can feel his ire prickling through his skin and his teeth are grinding together. He’s focusing hard on his laptop, adamantly refusing to rise to Grimmjow’s snide remarks but barely holding himself together.

He concentrated on getting his breathing under control while Grimmjow took a break from tormenting him. The ex-espada had just returned from the shower, clad only in sweat pants with towel around his neck and dripping hair. With a delighted smirk he had informed Ichigo that the new body wash Yuzu had picked up was strawberry scented followed by predictable comments about how Ichigo could now be a strawberry in name and flavour.

He was a fucking comedian obviously.

He’d gone quiet now Ichigo noted, catching sight of him from the corner of his eye. He began to style his damp hair, running his fingers through it and twisting his bangs to create that disarrayed - yet still somewhat stylish - mess that he wore. Ichigo watched him in contempt; the way Grimmjow could wind him up, push him to the brink of losing it and then just dismiss him to play with his hair. It pissed him off further and the sour look of his face deepened.

“The fuck are ya glaring at me like that for?” Grimmjow’s voice rumbled into his thoughts.

Grimmjow wasn’t even looking at him, his eyebrows were furrowed and he was focused on getting a lock of hair to fall the way he wanted it to. Interesting that a man like Grimmjow, who cared little about getting covered in dirt or filth (or _blood_ ), was pretty obsessive when it came to his grooming. His daily routine consisted of showering, styling his hair perfectly (Ichigo rarely saw a strand out of place), cleaning and trimming his nails before picking out a surprisingly well co-ordinated outfit. Sure he might ruin it all later by traipsing through mud or starting a fight but he always scrubbed up well.

 _Like a cat_.

Ichig snorted. “I’m not glaring at you like _anything_. I’m just watching your obsessive grooming routine, kitty-cat,” he added carelessly. 

Grimmjow froze, his eye peeling themselves away from the lock he was working on and narrowing at Ichigo.

“Don’t call me that.”

Ichigo, unfazed and not fulling understanding what he was instigating, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Fine then, I think _kitten_ sounds just as good. Am I right, Kitten?”

“Quit it,” Grimmjow growled venomously and shifted to the edge on Ichigo’s bed, his focus completely directed towards the other man now. Ichigo tilted his head to the side with a frown as he realised the effect his words had. Grimmjow had gone from pretty chilled and relaxed to agitated with a simple nickname.

Interesting.

“You don’t like that nickname?” Ichigo said, surveying Grimmjow’s aggravated expression. “Gee, I wonder what it’s like to be given a nickname you don’t want.”

“If you think you’re going to get away with calling me that,” Grimmjow began in a low, threatening voice, “then you’ve got another thing coming.”

Ichigo smirked provokingly, “big words for a kitten.”

Grimmjow stood up sharply, towering over Ichigo’s seated figure and fixed him with a look that didn’t just threaten, but _promised_ violent retribution if Ichigo didn’t shut the hell up right now.

But Ichigo was known for being stubborn.

“Gonna scratch me, Kit-“

That was all he managed before Grimmjow’s weight was on him and Ichigo’s chair tipped back sending them both crashing to the ground.

* * *

 

“EAT SHIT, STRAWBERRY!”

“Right back at you, Kitten!” Ichigo snarled from the top of the stairs, his dad giving him an exasperated look as he restrained Grimmjow from charging back upstairs and well, _murdering_ his son.

For the first time since Grimmjow had moved in, Isshin had seriously thought he would need to go into his Shinigami form to break the two of them apart.

“Cool it, both of you,” he said, finally managed to force Grimmjow back and pressuring him into the living room.

* * *

 

It was Orihime’s strawberry flavoured milkshake that triggered the next fight.

It had supposed to have been a relaxing day with his friends, no school, no homework, no _Grimmjow_. But when Orihime had eagerly suggested that Ichigo bring Grimmjow along as well, the possibility of peace flew straight out of the window. He’d grimaced and planned on a firm _no_ , but Orihime was a hard person to say no to. She was thoughtful and kind – maybe sometimes too much so – and Ichigo didn’t have the heart refuse her suggestion when she turned her gentle eyes and smile to him.

So Grimmjow got an invite.

It had started okay. Ishida mostly ignored the presence of the hollow and remained civil for the sake of the group. Chad and Grimmjow greeted each other with a nod, a silent exchange with mutual acceptance. And Orihime, much like Yuzu, welcomed Grimmjow with a big smile and set about making conversation. To be fair, Grimmjow was not hostile with her, mostly answering with shrugs and grunts and he managed to keep his sardonic comments to himself as he watched her pour an obscene amount of mustard on her store-bought bento box.

But naturally the calm only lasted so long.

They were seated on the grass under the trees in a local park when Orihime had come back from a vending machine with a milkshake. Ishida had asked her what flavour she had finally decided to get after seeming to ponder the decision for quite some time. When she answered - “ _strawberry!”_ \-  and took a large gulp; Ichigo didn’t even need to look to know Grimmjow was smirking at him.

“I can see you smirking, Kitten, so whatever shitty comments you’ve got prepared just keep them to yourself,” Ichigo growled without missing a beat.

“ _Don’t fucking call me that!”_

“I was getting it in there before you start,” he shot back, turning to meet Grimmjow’s pissed off face, the smirk had dropped the moment _kitten_ fell from Ichigo’s lips.

The tension they’d managed to shake off earlier that day returned instantly. Orihime grasped her milkshake can between her hands. She had wanted to laugh at the nickname Ichigo had bestowed upon Grimmjow, remembering the Arrancar’s Resurrección all too well, but the drastic change in the atmosphere sank her smile. Ishida merely raised his eyebrows and silently waited for some form of explanation to the sudden outburst.

“Kitten?” Chad repeated, the curiosity in his voice contradicting his passive expression. Grimmjow’s eye twitched as he continued his stare of with Ichigo. And Ichigo knew very well that this was going to blow up if one of them didn’t back down, but Grimmjow is just so _infuriating_ that Ichigo doesn’t want to be the bigger person. Even if they weren’t on the battlefield anymore, Grimmjow still managed to drag out that deeply buried carnal side to him. The part of him that wanted to bare his teeth following each petty prompt Grimmjow fired his way.

So he bared his teeth, in an infantile manner of speaking

“Of course, you guys didn’t see Grimmjow in his release form,” Ichigo drawled keeping steady eye contact with the man in question who seemed to be trying to murder him with his gaze. “He turns into a big, cute, cuddly _kitten_.”

The last word barely left his lips before Ichigo felt fingers close around his neck and Grimmjow’s weight barrelling into him and forcing him onto his back. He immediately seized Grimmjow’s wrists and tried to tug his hands away from his throat but Grimmjow’s grip was tight. He threw a wild punch instead which collided somewhat painfully with Grimmjow’s skull and the man faltered, his grip on Ichigo’s throat becoming loose enough so he was able to take a deep gulp of air.

He barely noticed Orihime’s panicked cries or Ishida… who was barking something in that stern tone of voice. All he saw was Grimmjow’s furious face, pupils like pinpricks surrounded by a sea of electric blue. His ire felt as thick and heavy as the hands around his throat, like it was a physical force weighing him down and Ichigo’s own rage paled in comparison.

It was the strong arms of Chad wrapping themselves around Grimmjow’s torso and heaving him back that gave Ichigo that chance to dive onto his feet and prepare himself. The skin around his neck was inflamed and felt sore; it would most likely leave a bruise if not for Orihime’s abilities. Though getting healed was not Ichigo’s top priority right now. Kicking Grimmjow’s ass into the dirt was.

The hollow was snarling and spitting in his direction, he would have charged in and resumed the fight had Chad not continued to restrain him. The gigai Grimmjow wore stripped him of his massive reiatsu and super-human strength allowing Chad – with greater height and weight – to match him in power. Grimmjow strained and struggled but could not manage to break free. Not that Ichigo cared if he did. He would have accepted a fight right now; the words _just let him go_ sat on the tip of his tongue and had it not been for Ishida’s hand of his shoulder and Orihime’s on his wrist he probably would have said it.

“Ichigo…”

Ishida’s cool voice and the pleading look on Orihime’s face brought him back to reality. The reality in which several people were staring at them in a concerned way. Grimmjow was still cussing him out and Ichigo balled his fists up in frustration.

He always had to be the mature one, the _adult_ , when it came to Grimmjow.

* * *

 

They didn’t speak for almost two weeks after that particular fight. For the first two days Grimmjow had stayed at Urahara’s. Something his father and Urahara had called a “cooling off” period where they could have some space to take a little breather from being in each other’s space all the time. As if they meet up again two days later and move on, forgive and forget, even when a ring of purple bruises encompassed Ichigo’s throat. He had stormed off in a hurry after the fight without a thought and had woken to dark, ugly bruises the next morning. Orihime had kindly come by a few days later and offered to heal him. But even with the evidence removed, the heavy atmosphere still lingered.

Grimmjow slept downstairs and never stayed in a room with Ichigo alone for more than 5 minutes. Ichigo got the feeling Urahara had _gently_ reminded him of the situation he was in. He had terms and rules to follow and disobedience could result in dire consequences for the ex-espada. Ichigo wasn’t entirely sure what punishment he could face for petty fights but if he strayed too far over the line that had been laid down for him he knew Grimmjow could be taken to Seireitei and potentially executed if they found it necessary. It explained Grimmjow’s hostile yet silent behaviour. He suspected Grimmjow probably knew he would lose his temper if he were alone with him.

Truthfully, Ichigo was grateful. Even with the bruises gone he could still feel the anger that had been aroused when Grimmjow had attempted to squeeze the life out of him. He was still pissed for sure, and he wasn’t entirely confident he would be able to keep his temper in check either if Grimmjow were to surrender to his emotions.

Dinner times were awkward. It was the one meal of the day where the family (plus Grimmjow) were all usually present. It was also where Ichigo often caught Grimmjow staring at him. It wasn’t a deadly glare but rather a penetrating fixation and Ichigo could guess that Grimmjow was vividly imagining different ways he could murder him. The intense exchange was usually interrupted by Isshin asking how their day was, staring pointedly at Grimmjow who muttered _fine_ before dropping his gaze. Ichigo suspected that his dad had also reminded Grimmjow to watch his behaviour.

Although they may not have been fighting, verbally or physically, the dark mood in the house had begun to affect everyone. One evening after dinner, Isshin had pulled Ichigo to the side and simply asked, “ _How long is this going to go on?”_ with a pointed look and Ichigo felt like a naughty little child. Karin had few words to share but would shake her head at him if their eyes were to ever meet.

Yuzu had seemed suspiciously bright and cheerful despite the tensions in the air and Ichigo had hoped she had somehow not noticed the silent conflict between her brother and Grimmjow.

It was Kon who proved his hopes false.

“What kind of terrible big brother are you?” He demanded on the twelfth day, his yellow plush body clothed in a white and pink frilly dress. “How can you keep this up while your little sister is crying at night?”

Ichigo huffed, sparing the mod-soul an exasperated look before scoffing, “take it up with Grimmjow. He’s the one with issues.”

“He’s not Yuzu’s brother though, _you_ are,” Kon countered, clambering on his desk and pointing a round paw at him.

“Look, I’m sick of being expected to act like the grown-up,” Ichigo snapped, “nobody else puts up with the amount of shit I take from Grimmjow, yet they expect me to be the bigger person all the time. _He’s_ older than me and I’m supposed to coddle him when he throws a tantrum?”

“Nobody said you have to coddle him,” Kon said in a surprisingly serious tone. “And he’s a hollow remember. Your job is to teach him, guide him or whatever.”

“Wish I could quit this job,” Ichigo muttered.

“And you know that the Shinigami will come for him if you do that…”

Ichigo’s eyes dropped a fraction. Yes, he knew if he gave up then Grimmjow would be taken away. Urahara was too busy to watch over Grimmjow all the time and nobody else here was strong enough to be his “caretaker”. The only other option until he was no longer considered a threat was a cell in Soul Society. Or they tossed him to Mayuri Kurotsuchi, a fate probably worse than death. And Ichigo knew deep in his heart, past the ill feelings, he couldn’t leave Grimmjow to face that outcome. The same way he couldn’t leave Kon to be destroyed.

“I know,” Ichigo sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Unfortunately it wasn’t as simple as finding Kon a stuffed plush body to live in. Grimmjow had years upon years of violent and instinctive predatory behaviour to unlearn and find a new life here. And a man who gets so dangerously aggressive at being nickname _Kitten_ wasn’t one who showed much promise.

“Yuzu will cry more if they take him away.”

“I know,” Ichigo repeated quietly, dropping his hand to rest on the desk in front of him. He rested his face in his other palm, elbow on the desk, and looked down at Kon who had seated himself next to his laptop. “What do you suppose I should do then?”

Kon shrugged, the white frills on his dress bouncing with the movement, “well, have you tried talking to him?”

* * *

 

 _Talking_ with Grimmjow wasn’t as straight forward as it sounded. Especially when he’d been in a bad mood for so long and the restraints on his murderous intent stretched to the limit. Ichigo decided to wait until the following evening, when Karin and Yuzu were out, to approach Grimmjow, his father working in the clinic. At least they wouldn’t be around if things turned negative.

Grimmjow was lounging across the sofa, which had also acted as his bed lately, flipping through the channels on TV when Ichigo found him. He took a deep breath and strolled close to the center of the room, clearly in Grimmjow’s vision but with plenty of distance between them in case Grimmjow tried to hit him.

Grimmjow’s eyes flicked to him briefly before going back to the TV, his frown becoming deeper.

“So are we just gonna keep ignoring each other?” Ichigo said finally.

“Works for me,” Grimmjow sneered without looking at him. Ichigo’s jaw tensed and he narrowed his eyes.

“Well it doesn’t work for me and it doesn’t work for my family,” Ichigo stated expectantly but Grimmjow just continued to scowl at the TV so Ichigo moved to block it. “So we need to talk and work something out.”

“Why don’t you fuck off out of my way for starters?”

“Stop being so damn selfish!” Ichigo snapped, his hands tensing at his sides and cursing himself for raising his voice 30 seconds into the conversation, but Grimmjow’s attitude continued to push all the wrong buttons. “You think you can just mooch around here for free? You’re supposed to be trying to integrate but if you won’t even listen to me then what’s the point of me even trying?” He swallowed before adding, “What’s the point of you being here?”

The effect of his words for instantaneous. Grimmjow dropped the TV remote and sat up, turning to plant his feet on the floor with his lips pressed in a firm line.

“Is that your way of telling me to leave?” Grimmjow asked in a low voice that could have been described as threatening but Ichigo picked up the slightest hints of apprehension in his tone and the small ticks in his body that revealed his discomfort with where this conversation was headed.

 _He knows the only other place for him to go is Soul Society_.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Ichigo argued but Grimmjow didn’t look convinced. He sighed. “I’m saying we need to sort this out. If things are going to get better then we need to learn to communicate with each other. So I’ll start – stop calling me Strawberry.”

Grimmjow snorted at him. “Quit being such a little bitch. It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“My parents did _not_ name me after a fruit,” Ichigo growled. “I’ve put up with people dragging out the _strawberry_ jokes my whole life and I’m not going to sit and take it from you as well. But if you want to try me then you better get used to being called Kitten.”

Grimmjow visibly tensed at the nickname, his lip curling in a snarl but Ichigo cut in before he could say anything.

“It’s a two-way street, Grimmjow. You want me to stop then you need to as well.”

“Oh fuck off, Kurosaki!”

Ichigo closed his eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath before reopening them.

“It ain’t the same at all. _Strawberry_ is just a play on yer name, _Kitten_ is –“

“Is what?” Ichigo interrupted angrily, “why is it so much worse for you?”

“You know damn well why,” Grimmjow growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

They stared each other down for a long time, Ichigo, silently seething but refusing to back down, was surprised when Grimmjow looked away first, his scowling face pointing towards the window. He could see his jaw moving slightly under his skin as if he were grinding his teeth and his eyebrows pinched further together as if his own thoughts were pissing him off even more.

After a minute of stubborn silence, Grimmjow pushed himself back to slump against the backrest.

“Fucking _Nnoitra_ used to call me that,” he snarled, crossing his arms defensively and glaring at the floor. “Bastard was always mocking me.”

Ichigo blinked at the outburst, rather surprised that Grimmjow had revealed something from his past. But it made a lot more sense now. Grimmjow had been rather tight-lipped so far about his time as an Espada under Aizen. He cursed about Tousen and Ulquiorra somewhat; both of them had gotten what they deserved as far as he was concerned. But Ichigo suspected that Nnoitra was still a sore topic for him.

The gigai may hide it, as it did with his hollow-like features, but Ichigo knew Grimmjow’s spiritual body still bore two very noticeable scars. The first one was the vertical slash down his chest, the one that Ichigo had given him during their first battle, the one that Grimmjow had purposely kept and could even be described as weirdly attached to. The second however was a brutal reminder of the betrayal and humiliation Nnoitra had bestowed. It ran in a large crescent form from his chest over the juncture between his shoulder and neck and around onto his back.

Grimmjow wasn’t entirely surprised that Nnoitra had attacked him - very few Arrancars had any sense of loyalty or comradery – they’d always shared a mutual dislike and Grimmjow knew before long they would clash. But for him to cut him down like that during (because as far as Grimmjow was concerned the fight was _not_ over) his battle with Ichigo and then to be _protected_ and forgotten about in the sands... Ichigo’s concern and Nnoitra’s smug face and the taunting words _helpless as a kitten_ playing in his head; _mocking_ him.

He couldn’t stand it.

He said no more but Ichigo’s shoulders dropped and the teen let out a sigh.

“Okay, if it bugs you that much,” he began, coming closer so he was stood only a couple of feet from where Grimmjow sat. “Then I won’t call you that anymore. _But_ , only if you promise to stop calling me Strawberry. Deal?”

“Dunno if I can promise that,” Grimmjow shrugged.

“Then promise that you’ll _try,”_ Ichigo bargained. “It makes no sense that we purposely keep doing things we know we both hate.”

Grimmjow huffed and seemed to make a big deal about thinking it over but he eventually agreed. “Fine, but if you slip up then don’t expect me to keep playing nice.”

“I won’t slip up, I can assure you. I only started calling you that in the first place because _you_ wouldn’t give it a rest,” Ichigo said and thrust his hand out in front of Grimmjow in a sign of compromise and co-operation. Grimmjow raised his eyebrow at it.

“Seriously?” He asked sceptically but Ichigo just nodded firmly. With a roll of his eyes, Grimmjow met Ichigo’s palm with his own and the two former enemies made a tentative pact. Their hands are warm and both are surprised that neither of them attempt to break each other’s fingers. They shake once before letting go, and it dawns on both of them that this was the first time they had ever purposely touched each other without the intention to kill or harm behind it.

* * *

 

Another day and another pointless argument.

“She’s an old lady who has to deal with annoying people all day, just give her a break already.”

“She’s a _bitch_. Every time I go in that shop she fuckin’ follows me around like I’m gonna wreck the place –“

“It’s because you’re still new around here. And you look like a damn delinquent,” Ichigo sighed, dropping a grocery bag on the table in the kitchen as Grimmjow followed suit. “It’s your hair –“

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my hair.”

“It’s _blue_ ,” Ichigo said, pulling out the ingredients Yuzu had asked them to pick up for dinner that evening. “People aren’t used to seeing it, especially old people. Unconformity makes them nervous. Trust me,” he pointed at his own mop of bright orange hair sat on his head, “you think I never got this treatment?”

“I don’t give a shit if they don’t like it, if she keeps starin’ at me like that every time I go in I’ll-“

“You’ll what? Punch her?” Ichigo snorted at him.

“You don’t think I will?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. But it’s a bit pathetic isn’t it? Punching little old ladies, going after the vulnerable are you now?”

“Get fucked, _Straw_ -“

“What was that?” Ichigo cut in, his tone switching from somewhat playful to deadly serious in a heartbeat.

It had been three weeks since their truce and so far Ichigo had been quite impressed with Grimmjow. They’d gone back to sharing Ichigo’s room and while they still bickered about many other things, Grimmjow had not once resorted to calling him _strawberry._ He had stuck with his promise to try for the sake of getting along and now as Ichigo watched him bite his tongue and have an internal wrestle with his words, he couldn’t help but feel if they kept this up then it could only be a massive improvement in their relationship.

“…Motherfucker,” Grimmjow finally settled on.

Ichigo nodded his head. “That’s more like it.”

So long as he was trying, Ichigo would settle with that.


End file.
